Ask Annabelle
by lazrocks
Summary: Hetalia Academy is taken by storm when the school newspaper adds a new column called "Ask Annabelle" for everyone's love and dating advice needs. But it's not just the readers who benefit from Annabelle's advice. Gakuen AU. NedCan, AmeBel, FrUK, and SuFin, with a side of DenNor and possibly other pairings. Enjoy!
1. First Impressions

_Dear Annabelle,_

_ There's someone I like, but I'm not sure how to tell them how I feel. Honestly, I doubt they even know I exist… Should I even try? How do I make an impression? Thanks._

_-Horrible At First Impressions_

_Dear First Impressions,_

_ In my opinion, there is nothing better than the classics. You might want to give them some chocolates, or some nice flowers, but really, the most important thing is to tell them how you feel! Good luck!_

_-Annebelle_

Matthew cringed as he slammed into the locker next to him, for the third time today, as another person pushed him aside on the way to his locker. _Thank God this day is over… _Nothing seemed to be going right.

_I've never seen so many people actually reading the school newspaper_… It seemed like everyone was holding a copy as he walked down the hall. It wasn't a surprise, really; ever since they started "Ask Annabelle," a love advice column, everyone had been talking about it. Matthew wouldn't admit it, but he was interested as well- evident by the copy of the paper tucked away in his notebook.

Quick fingers worked the lock on locker 396, but it still took three tries for this cursed locker to finally open. As he reached for his backpack, something caught his eye.

A single, pink tulip fluttered to the ground, and Matthew stooped to pick it up, a smile playing on his lips. He quickly looked around before slipping the flower in with his belongings. This had been happening for two weeks, and had been getting more and more frequent with each day.

For a moment, every bad thing that had happened that day, like the teacher not bothering to answer his question because he didn't notice his hand raised; or being marked absent when he was really right there. Sure, he was used to these things, but it still got to him. It was nice to think that maybe, somewhere, someone really saw him.

_Of course, _Matthew thought as he shut his locker. _It could be that they got the locker wrong… _But wouldn't someone have noticed by now? Still, once the thought was there, it couldn't be shut out. After all, no one was coming up and telling them they loved him or anything…

Matthew glanced at the clock. "Maple!" He exclaimed, as he realized how late he was. If he didn't beat his brother Alfred to his car, he'd drive off without him. With a sigh, he realized he'd have to use the back exit if there was any chance of him getting there on time.

The back of the school, Matthew shuddered at the sight, as he pushed the door open with his shoulder. Trash was scattered all around, flittering on the breeze. The whole place reeked of rotten food and cigarette smoke, but Matthew knew _that _was the least of his worries. The people that hung out back here, _they _were the ones to worry about.

As if on cue, a pack of them appeared- a trio in matching sagging pants, baseball caps tilted to one side, and matching obnoxious laughs. "Hey, kid!" One of them called.

_Of course they'd be the only ones to see me today_… Matthew continued walking and prayed he'd get away.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" One of them grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, and they laughed at Matthew's wide eyes.

"Wha-what do you want?" Matthew cussed at himself for stuttering, but he couldn't help it. Besides, he was so obviously terrified, it wouldn't have mattered.

"You got any money?" One of them asked after a minute, like they hadn't had any intention to hurt him other than just to scare him.

"N-no," He insisted.

"How about Twinkies?" One of them mused. "Man, I have a wicked case of the munchies."

Another nodded in agreement. "Or Ding Dongs."

"Or Swiss Rolls."

Matthew dug through his bag and brought out a granola bar he'd been saving from lunch, his favorite kind, and held it out with a shaky hand. The other grabbed it, and tried to rip it open with grubby fingers when suddenly a booming voice stopped him dead in his tracks. "Give it back."

Matthew could see him standing there, blonde hair standing almost straight up on end, green eyes glittering in the sunlight, and a scar over his right eyebrow. His face was twisted into a scowl as he ordered again. "Give it back, and let him go." His voice bounced off the wall, making him seem even more threatening than he actually was.

"Fine, man, whatever," The three pushed Matthew to the ground, and chucked the granola bar at his chest. "Way to be a party pooper, Morgens," One muttered as they found their seats back against the wall.

As he quickly gathered his things, Matthew could hear the footsteps of the man as he came closer and closer to him. When Matthew turned, he was right there, holding out a certain pink tulip. "You… Dropped this," was all he said, before stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking in the opposite direction.

Matthew scrambled to his feet and ran to the parking lot, barely making it to Alfred's truck to swing into the passenger seat as he started the engine.

"Oh, hey dude!" He said cheerily. "I forgot you needed a ride today."

"I always need a ride, Alfred," Matthew muttered as they pulled out of the parking lot, and the car became silent save for Alfred's booming country music that made Matthew want to bash his head in.

All Matthew did on the way home was stare at that pink flower, and once again wonder who had gotten it for him. Of course, in the back of his mind, he silently thanked the guy- Morgens, he believed his name was- who'd gotten the precious tulip back to him.

Little did he know that it was Morgens himself who had put the flower in Matthew's locker in the first place.

_Author's Note: In case anyone's wondering, my friend and I have a name for those three idiots harassing poor Matthew; We call them the Douchebag Trio. It fits, doesn't it? I have a feeling this isn't the last time you'll be hearing from them…_


	2. Planning the Wedding

_Dear Annebelle,_

_ How do I get someone to love me? Even if he loves another man IT DOESN'T MATTER BECAUSE HE BELONGS WITH ME AND THAT'S FINAL! We belong together! How can I change his mind?_

_Sincerely,_

_Planning the Wedding_

_Dearest Planning the Wedding,_

_ Mon cher, it seems to me you've already told him how you feel. Sadly, sometimes love is cruel. It seems to me the one you love has found another. Tragic, I now, but don't despair! There's someone out there who's destined to be with you, and they might be closer than you think._

_Best Wishes,_

_Annebelle_

_The game of the season_, Alfred smiled at the thought as he sang along to the song on the radio. If they won this game, it was a straight shot to the finals, and soon, they'd be the champions. Everyone was counting on Alfred, their quarterback and undoubtedly their star player, to be the hero and win tonight.

Sure, it was a lot of pressure, but Alfred was ready. Adrenaline was already pounding through his veins as he pulled into the parking lot and walked into the locker room.

Alfred was always just late enough to get a pat on the back from everyone on the team as he made his way to his locker. But sometimes, it didn't always work in his favor. Namely, there was a certain Russian blocking his way when he reached it.

"Hello, Alfred," he said with his thick accent, a cheery smile hardly masking the look of distain in his eyes. "Are you excited for the game?"

"Of course, Ivan," Alfred said with an eyeroll. "Now would you mind getting out of my way?"

Ivan stepped to the side without a fight, but continued talking as Alfred got his stuff together. "I really hope you are prepared. You know if we lose tonight everyone will blame you, da?"

Of course he knew that! Besides, the bastard _wanted _him to lose- the second Alfred slipped up, the commie would come in and steal his quarterback slot. "No worries, dude, I know what I'm doing."

"So you say," The Russian said with that sickening smile, and walked away as Alfred pulled his #50 jersey over his head.

"How's the second most awesome player on the team?" Alfred laughed and turned to find his two best friends standing behind.

"Hey, dudes!" Alfred exclaimed, as Gilbert looked at him with a cocky smile, and Matthias struggled to get all of his hair into his helmet.

"Good luck out there, Alfred!" Matthias said with his signature goofy smile. "You win, I'll buy all the beer for party afterwards."

"That's what you said last time, and the awesome me had to loan you 20 bucks," Gilbert used his threatening gaze, but even he couldn't keep from smiling. They all knew this was going to be a great game.

"Well, good luck out there, dudes!" Alfred plunked the helmet onto his head and walked out onto the field, taking a deep breath and getting all the confidence he needed to win.

Alfred walked out of the locker room, through a cacophony of _good job _and _great game_ as he tried to get to his car. But as he scanned the parking lot for his truck, his eyes stopped short.

There she was.

Alfred licked his lips in nervousness when she looked in his direction, and he found his feet moving him closer and closer, at an alarming rate. Deep violet eyes met clear blue ones and for a minute, everything felt… Right.

"Hi," Alfred blurted, and her eyebrows quickly furrowed. She obviously didn't expect to have to make conversation.

"Hello," she said after a long pause. She glanced over Alfred's shoulder but he didn't notice at the time.

"…I've never seen you here before. Is this your first game?"

She shook her head. "I come to all of my brother's games."

"Who's your brother?"

"Ivan Braginski."

"Alfred immediately gulped. Ivan Braginski? His biggest rival? Why did it have to be him… He immediately changed the subject. "So… What's your name?"

"Natalia."

"I'm Alfred." He reached over and shook her hand, her pale skin icy cold. She pulled away as soon as she could.

"It's… Nice to meet you." But it didn't seem so nice.

"So… Do you wanna go-" He was cut off when she darted across the field, to the distinctly tall figure of Ivan.

"…Bye." Alfred sighed, trudging back to his shiny new Ford pick-up, where Matthias and Gilbert sat expectantly on the tailgate.

"What took you so long?" Matthias asked, hopping to the ground.

"Yeah, we have an awesome party to get to!" Gilbert crossed his arms, annoyed.

"Sorry, dudes," I got distracted… Have you heard of a girl Named Natalia? Long blonde hair, purple eyes, really cute…"

"Natalia Arlovskaya?" Matthias asked wearily.

"You mean stabby chick?" Gilbert got more to the point.

"What?"

"Everyone says her last boyfriend dumped her… For a guy!"

"…So?"

"So! She went insane! Attacked them both with a knife!"

"Everyone says she got expelled and was sent to live in Russia with her grandparents." Matthias continued.

"I really doubt that, dudes."

"That's not it! She has some sort of stalker crush on Ivan."

Alfred was speechless. But his friend's warnings didn't sway his mind. He knew how rumors were, there were plenty going around about him, some more flattering than others. All he knew was, the rest of the night the only thought on his mind were those violet eyes… And it became his mission to go on a date with her.


	3. Curious

_Dear Annabelle,_

_ I know this really isn't an advice question, but will you show us your face? And are you dating anyone currently? Because if not, I'm still available._

_-Curious_

_Dear Curious,_

_ I know you all must be aching to know my identity, but I prefer to keep that a secret. It's more exciting that way, no? And as to your other question, well, that's up to me and my possible suitors. But I'll make sure to add you to the list._

_With love,_

_Annabelle_

Arthur dreaded every meeting of the newspaper staff. It wasn't that he didn't _like _the newspaper… It's just that there wasn't much that was enjoyable about it, _especially_ the first meeting after a new issue, where they talked incessantly about topics. Arthur sat in his chair, foot tapping as he tried to listen to the editor and chief go on and on about the damn football team…

He didn't even know why he got on the staff to begin with. Despite what many people had told him, Arthur didn't find himself to be a very good writer. He just knew how to spell and where to put in periods. There were many people in the school who he thought were _much _more qualified in writing talent than he was.

But he was accepted, and Arthur never went back on his word. He was much too prideful and stubborn for that. He'd work on this paper, sit through thousands of meetings and stare at computer screens until his eyes bled, and by God he'd like it.

There was extra pressure to be great, though, with the paper becoming so popular. The damn dating advice column seemed so idiotic to Arthur, but apparently everyone else in the school loved it. Every day Annabelle's mailbox was filled to the brim with letters, obviously many of them wouldn't get answered.

"Psst," Arthur's head jerked up and someone slapped him on the arm. Lukas, his best friend, gave him a stern look before turning back to the editor and chief.

"…This position is very important, and we'll need someone very talented to do it." It seems that right then, he saw Arthur's head raise. "Arthur? Are you up to it?"

"Um, why, of course!" Arthur talked before he noticed the dreaded looks on everyone's faces. He immediately regretted his decision.

"Great! You'll make a great assistant for Annabelle."

"A-assistant?" Arthur stuttered as the editor grabbed his arm, taking him down the hall and into another, unassuming room. He unlocked the door and opened it, motioning for Arthur to go inside.

It was an office, with one, large window, that had an absolutely gorgeous view of the town. A desk sat there, with a computer upon it, and a table with envelopes scattered one it in all shapes, sizes, and colors.

The most noticeable thing, however, was the large desk chair, with a blonde sitting in it. _So this is the infamous Annabelle… _He starting building an image of her in his brain, but he didn't expect what happened next.

The chair turned, and sitting there was a… Man.

A very _handsome _man.

He flipped his long golden locks over his shoulder, wearing a charming smile. Clear blue eyes looked directly at Arthur- _did his smile widen _ - and for a moment, everything was silent.

"Francis, this is Arthur," Arthur's eyes meandered down from his eyes, although he tried to keep himself in check. "He'll be you're new assistant," Down past the crisp white shirt that hid an obviously perfect chest. "Arthur this is Francis Bonnefoy," Down to the man's crotch, exactly where they _shouldn't _have been. But there was _something else_ that shouldn't have been at Annabelle's crotch as well… "Or as you probably know him, Annabelle…. Arthur?"

Arthur's eyes snapped back up and he cleared his throat. "It's a pleasure," He said almost robotically, and stuck out a hand to shake.

"The pleasure is all mine, Arthur," Francis had a distinct French accent, that mutilated Arthur's name in the best way possible.

"…Well, I'll leave you two to work." The editor left without another word, obviously noticing the tension between the two of them. It was evident that they were polar opposites.

Arthur stood quietly for a moment, unsure just what he was supposed to do, and an awkward silence slowly crept across the room.

"Well, we should work, non?" Francis turned around in his chair and continued to type without another word.

Shocked, Arthur stood their awkwardly for a moment before quietly pulling up a second chair. But the quiet didn't last for long. "…You misspelled that."

"I know."

"…Then why aren't you fixing it?"

"Because I want to finish the reply."

"But you're going to have to go back and fix it anyway, why don't you just-"

"Hush," Francis put one finger to Arthur's mouth. "I know what I'm doing."

Arthur was silent for a moment. "…You need to put a comma there."

_Author's Note: So why _was _England staring at France's crotch? That's up to you, my lovely readers. ;D Stay tuned!_


	4. Her True Hero

_Dear Annabelle,_

_ I have a problem. Usually girls really like me. I mean, what's not to like? I'm handsome, athletic, popular… But the girl I really want to be with doesn't seem to care about that stuff. And I think she might like someone else! How can I change her mind?_

_Cincerly,_

_Sinecerly,_

_Sincerely,_

_Her True Hero_

_Dear Hero,_

_ If she is taken, there is nothing stopping you from asking her out, mon cher! Tell her how you feel, and if you are meant to be, she will come around eventually._

_-Annabelle_

Alfred didn't realize he had fallen asleep in Geometry (again) until the dismissal bell jarred him awake. He quickly got his things together and made his way to the door, until something stopped him.

"Mr. Jones," the math teacher's icy tone made him jerks to a stop. "I'd like to speak with you for a minute."

Alfred slowly turned around to face him, a man with thin, long white hair and a glare permanently glued to his face. If he had a beard, he'd look something like Gandalf the Grey… The thought made Alfred snicker despite himself.

"What seems to be the problem Mr. G?"

The teacher sighed. "Alfred, do you know the school's policy for student athletes?"

Alfred glanced at the clock, not wanting to waste any time. The longer he was here, the slimmer his chances were… "Yeah, sure, of course."

"The policy," Mr. G said through gritted teeth. "Is that students maintain a C average in order to be on the team."

"Well, what's my average?"

"C minus, which means you need to…" All Alfred heard was a chorus of _blah blah blah _as he kept looking at the clock. "…Do we understand each other?"

"Don't you worry, Mr. G!" Alfred said, inching towards the door. "I'll take care of it!"

Alfred ran to his locker and ran out the door, not slowing until he saw her, sitting on one of the benches at the school's entrance. She was just as pretty as she was Saturday night. Even in her school uniform, she stood out somehow. Her long blonde hair was tied back with a bow, and her violet eyes glimmered in the sunlight.

But the first thing Alfred noticed was that, while most of the benches were crowded, the one she sat on was empty.

_Perfect._

"Hey!" Alfred greeted cheerfully, plopping down next to her. "How's it goin'?" She tensed just enough for him to notice.

"Fine," Natalia said, refusing to look at him.

"…So, are you doing anything tomorrow night?" She nodded.

"…Next Thursday?" No luck.

"…This weekend?"

This is the point where most guys would have given up. But Alfred was not most guys. And frankly, he was kind of an idiot to begin with.

"Well… Are you doing anything right now?"

She answered simply with a glare. An _if you value your life I suggest you leave right now _kind of a glare.

Alfred was a little intimidated, but he didn't back down. "Come on, let's get some ice cream. I swear if you aren't happy then tomorrow you can ignore my existence forever."

Natalia sat silently for a minute, before standing up. Alfred didn't give her time for second thoughts, quickly grabbing her arm and leading her to his truck.

It was like she'd never had ice cream before. She ordered a small vanilla cone, but instead of eating it, she just glared at the treat, and Alfred almost expected it to melt on the spot out of pure terror. And he wasn't sure how he felt about her refusal to look him in the eye. Maybe it wasn't so bad- Alfred quite liked his insides when they _weren't _liquefied in an instant… _I really need to cut back on the sci-fi…_

But after consuming the top three scoops on his waffle cone, he figured he'd better start making conversation. "So," he said suddenly. "How's the ice cream?"

She shrugged. "Fine."

Another awkward silence. "So… What do you like to do?"

"I like going out with my brother, going to my brother's football games, and being alone." She shot an icy glare his way, and Alfred thought he felt his heart melting faster than the ice cream.

"Oh…" God, this was not going well. He had to think of something to say. Something smart. Sophisticated. Impressive. Cool. "I-I.. You… I think you're really pretty!"

The silence following was deafening.

What just happened? He never let things like that slip! He was Alfred F-ing Jones for crying out loud! He never made mistakes.

This was the end. It had to be. She'd never speak to him again. And after Ivan found out, he'd be a laughing stock at school…

"You do?" Her words made him jump. They were quiet and unsure, unlike how she usually spoke.

"Of course I do!" Alfred answered, his confident smile quickly returning. "You have really pretty hair, and pretty eyes, and… And… You're indescribable!" Thank _God _he'd paid attention in English that day.

"No one…" She looked down at her feet. "No one has ever said that to me before."

"Not even your big brother?" Alfred asked, trying to keep the distain out of his voice.

She shook her head.

"We'll they're crazy," Alfred's heart swelled. "Because you're crazy beautiful."

Natalia looked at him, and for the first time, she wasn't glaring. "I'd like to do… This, again."

"Uh, how's Friday?"

"Sounds good," She looked down and dug through her purse. "You will pick me up at 6 o'clock and take me somewhere nice. If you're more than 10 minutes late don't bother showing up at all." She went to hand him a slip of paper, but stopped herself. "And if you enjoy having your testicles attached, I suggest you call me the next day."

Alfred could only nod, his mouth suddenly very dry. "Sounds cool," he finally said.

"Good," she handed him the paper. Written on it, in firm, yet almost graceful handwriting, was a phone number. A _real _phone number, with 10 digits and everything. Alfred felt like jumping up and yelling "VICTORY!" But instead he decided to stay quiet.

After a minute, Natalia stood. "You may take me home now." Her ice cream cone was still untouched when she threw it away and got back into his truck.

He'd done it. He'd gotten a date, a _real _date with his dream girl. But it wasn't exactly what he had expected. The realization hit him like an oncoming train- now he'd have _Ivan _to deal with.

_Author's Note: Before anyone says anything, the SuFin portion of the story will be up soon! This is just what I was inspired to write, okay? But it will be up soon, I promise!_

_Also, if anyone is interested, you can now write letters to Annabelle yourself so I can add them to the beginnings of chapters! I'd appreciate if you wrote the letters as the Hetalia character of your choice, but remember that these letters are "anonymous." But as you already learned, it's not hard to figure out who you're portraying. Of course, you can write as anyone you want, if you are so inclined. Can't wait to get your letters!_

_Sorry for the lengthy author's note. Talk to you guys soon!_


	5. Hidden Behind A Mask

_Dear Annabelle,_

_I may not show my feelings all the time, but I want to convey my feelings to someone. I'm worried that she might not like me back because she's been staring at this other guy for a while. What do I do?_

_-Hidden Behind A Mask_

_Dear Hidden Behind A Mask,_

_The best thing you can do is to tell her how you feel. Even if she has feelings for someone else, as long as they aren't together there's still a chance for you. But there won't be if you don't tell her! Good luck, mon ami!_

_-Annabelle_

Berwald hated being tall, he finally decided, as he walked down the hallway clutching an icepack to his head.

It wasn't like being tall didn't have its advantages- he couldn't count how many times he'd gotten a ball out of the back of the basketball hoop, or retrieved something off a high shelf, but for every good thing there was at least one drawback. Running into doorframes, slouching wherever he went…

But the looks he got in the hallway were the worst part.

He didn't know what the rumors were that were being spread about him, ever since he started going to this school. But whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Maybe they thought he was expelled... For assaulting a student... No, a teacher!.. And that he was part of a gang. Because judging by how everyone treated him, it had to be 10 times worse.

Sure, it was the same way back in Sweden, but at least there the school was small. Everyone knew everyone, and even if people were apprehensive of Berwald, they still knew he wasn't all that dangerous.

Now, he was at this huge school, where he didn't know anyone, yet everyone seemed to identify him as "that freaky Swedish kid who doesn't talk in class and is probably planning to stab you..." Or something like that. Berwald never found time for gossip.

_At least the halls are empty now, _he told himself, hall passed crumpled up in one hand. But knowing his luck, he'd be getting plenty of stares when he walked into the classroom late, and everyone would assume the ice pack was because he was in a fight, not that he walked into a pipe hanging from the ceiling.

He didn't even realize he tripped and fell until he hit the cold linoliem with a "Oof!" and heard his glasses skitter across the floor away from him. Startled and practically blind, he felt his way around the floor and attempted to gather his belongings.

"Are these yours?" A cheerful voice asked him. Berwald didn't know how to respond, until he felt something plastic get pushed onto his face. He blinked, and saw what was definitely the most beautiful sight he'd seem in a long, long time.

Blonde hair created a halo around a perfect face, with porcelain skin that was dusted with a bit of a nervous blush. Round violet eyes were framed with thick black lashes, and precious pink lips were curved into a perfect smile.

"I'm Tino," the boy said after a minute, biting his lip. "And you are?"

"Oh! ''m Berw'ld." Berwald silently cursed his accent- now that was the reason he didn't talk much, not wanting to give anyone more reason to think he was a freak.

"It's nice to meet you Berwald!" Tino was cheerful again, seemingly unfazed by the accent. Their eyes met for a minute, and Berwald quickly looked down, clearing his throat and collecting his things.

Tino handed Berwald a few books with a smile. "Where are you off to, Berwald?"

"Chem'stry," He stood, not meeting Tino in the eye. "Ah'm comin' b'ck fr'm the nurse."

"Oh," Tino replied, like he just saw the icepack in his hand. He reached up to look at the bump on his forehead. "That looks like it hurt a lot," he ran his thumb across it cautiously.

"'s not th't bad." Berwald was thankful he didn't ask about some sort of brawl in the alley. But Tino didn't seem like that kind of person. He seemed much nicer than most of the students here. "Wh're 're ya comin' from?"

"I was just delivering a message for my art teacher while the paint dries," He started walking, and Berwald quickly followed. "I just did the first coat on my landscape on canvas and I decided to let the bark dry before I try to paint the leaves with this technique I found on the internet and I think it'll turn out great but my art teacher saw me just sitting around and decided to send me to give some paints to the other painting instructor and so I did and I just happened to see you fall but that meant I got to help you! Isn't that great?" He giggled nervously at Berwald's silence. "Sorry, I babble a lot…"

"Don't worry 'bout it," He replied. Tino talking meant he didn't have to.

Tino smiled. "You seem really nice, Berwald. Would you like to eat lunch with me tomorrow?" His hopeful smile made Berwald's heart swell.

"Ah'd love ta."

"Great! I'll see you tomorrow then!" Tino practically skipped away into the classroom. Berwald watched him go and sighed. He was just so… Beautiful. Perfect. And he was the first person he'd met here who'd actually thought he seemed nice.

Tomorrow was sure to be great.

_Author's Note: Thanks to hetaliaforever123 for the letter at the top. Keep 'em coming, guys! Sorry for taking so long with this chapter, but the next one will be up very soon. Talk to you guys then!_


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